


The Best Mistake

by dwtbasv



Category: Brassic (TV)
Genre: Brassic Season One Spoilers, Complicated Emotions, Erin's pov, F/M, Prequel, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwtbasv/pseuds/dwtbasv
Summary: For a while, Erin Croft has had complicated feelings about her good friend Vinnie O'Neil. And they're about to get a whole lot more complicated.Shoutout to cookie_full_of_arsenic for writing the first Brassic fic and inspiring me to finally cobble something together from the mess of notes in my phone!
Relationships: Erin Croft/Vinnie O'Neil
Comments: 10
Kudos: 4





	1. Vin

If there’s one good thing my shithead brother Ronnie ever did, it was bringing Vinnie O’Neil into my life.

To be fair, it's not Ronnie's fault he's such a fuckup. It’s not like he could have helped our upbringing. It's a wonder mam and dad spent enough time out of prison to conceive the both of us, honestly. 

So early on, we were sent off to live with our gran and grandad—my dad's parents. And they, unfortunately, were proof that discipline courtesy of the rod only results in little shits who defy authority and seek chaos at every turn. 

I'd always tell myself if I ever had kids, they'd never experience any of that. I'd look at how I was raised and do the exact opposite. They wouldn't feel like burdens, demand everything because they felt they deserved nothing. Not that me raising little ones was bloody likely. 

Ronnie was a bit older, so when he started falling in with crowds of wayward souls, so did I. But while he entered a life of crime, I didn't see a place for myself in that world. Sure, I drank a bit. Dabbled with pot, and pills. But I never pocketed anything worth more than a couple quid. I just didn't have direction, and that can earn you a reputation when you're the youngest daughter in a family of petty criminals.

Early on, I got branded as the girl who slept around. At first, I'd deny the boys' claims, but I quickly found that fighting it only made the accusations worse. It wasn't long before I gave up on that little battle. Frankly, I couldn't give two tosses.

Even so, I'll let you know I lost my virginity at a perfectly healthy 17, thank you very much. Funny enough, it was always the guys I turned down who insisted I'd taken them to bed. On the rare occasion I shagged someone—and I only would with men I wouldn't  mind hearing rumors about—he'd always kept his mouth shut. By then, the fellas knew better than to brag about being able to bag Erin Croft. It stung, but I supposed that was the hole I'd dug for myself.

But not all of Ronnie's gang were  _completely_ thick. A mate of a friend from Manchester taught Ronnie this grift, right? You seek out beautiful American tourists and nick their wallets. There are a couple ways to spot these girls, supposedly. Besides their obvious accents, there are clues in the way they dress. Plus they tend to stumble a bit. Something to do with the way the pavement's set different in the states.

Anyway, tourists tend to carry far more cash than anyone should. So you pocket the money, maybe buy yourself something nice with a credit card, then you take a look at her ID. Nine times out of 10, you can find her on Instagram or whatever. 

You DM her letting them know you found her wallet. You're happy to return it. If she's wary, you insist she brings along her group of lovely American friends for safety. You're such a hero! And wow, that "British" accent is completely irresistable to the Yanks. You get the cash, you get appluaded and you get laid. Or that's the way it's supposed to go.

Problem is, not many Americans ever make their way past the city up to Hawley. Most maps don't even bother to include it, except to say, eh, maybe you can just skip this one. 

So when, after weeks of fruitless wandering, Ronnie finally got the opportunity to attempt this little scheme, his mark was neither young, nor beautiful. She also had a security chain attaching her wallet to her handbag, so when he tried to pick her pocket, he wound up clumsily pulling the whole bag away. 

He got flustered, and caused a big scene, and was promptly apprehended. That wasn't the incident that got him put away, but it was another point on his record that made jail time the inevitability. 

It wouldn't be long until he was sent off to Grendon. Now utterly embarrassed by him, Ronnie's boys decided they wanted nothing to do with me. 

But not Vinnie. He wasn't a regular part of the crew—in his youth he couldn't make up his mind and tended to drift back and forth between the local cliques—but he was there those couple of weeks, and with my brother gone, he felt responsible for me. And his mates took me in so quickly it was like they'd always been there for me. The way brothers are supposed to act.

God knows why they did that. Ronnie had always had a tendency to piss people off and do precisely the wrong thing. He had a temper on him, and he'd never been particularly bright either. That was always a deadly combination. 

But Vinnie made an important distinction. He said I wasn't my brother, and I shouldn't be punished for being related to him. Most people didn't think that way. And it didn't feel like he was just trying to get in my pants, either. That was a breath of fresh air.

You wouldn't think Vinnie was anything special by looking at him. He's too skinny and seems bent on covering every inch of his skin in amateur tattoos. He's one of the most impulsive human beings I've ever met. I've seen him envision and pull off a caper in the span of an half hour. He's also prone to outbursts out of nowhere, and episodes where he doesn't have it in him to leave home for a week at a time. And Ronnie used to  _hate_ the way Vin insisted on always calling him by his full name. After all, what kind of master thief was called _Ronald_ ?

But Christ, he's a natural born Robin Hood. Except in Hawley, it's really more a matter of taking from the relatively upper-middle class and giving to anyone who's not a complete dick. I thought I knew what loyalty meant. Then I met Vin.

He can be clever too, in his own way. I can't imagine he ever did very well in school, but he's got the kind of street smarts you can only earn by really being in it—pounding the pavement from an early age.

Like, not that I'd ever need to know this, but he taught me you never grow weed on the top floor of a building. Not this far north. The heat lamps you need to keep the cannabis plant thriving make the roof too warm, and when the temperatures dip low enough, the pigeons congregate. Hundreds of them. They love how warm and cozy the heat feels on their bums. You can spot them from a mile away, and the cops know it. That's enough evidence to get the warrant to bust you.

I can't tell you why, but I loved hearing about that shit, and he was like a walking petty theft encyclopedia. Somehow with Vin, that never seemed like a red flag. Maybe it should have. I never knew if his wild stories were the truth or elaborate embellishments, but I wanted to believe them all. No one had ever made me laugh like Vin.

And it was in one of those moments, after a tale about a scheme involving a mixup on a sale, resulting in the swapping of a single ginger cat between three families to leave them none the wiser, I chuckled so hard I snorted through my nose and felt so mortified I wanted to disappear. 

But Vin just smiled. All he wanted was to make sure I was happy, and safe, and loved. I felt all of those things like I never had before. And for the first time, I understood that I was in love with Vinnie O'Neil.

I didn't know what to do with that feeling. I'd always got the impression he might have fancied me a bit. I'd seen the way he stole glances at me while he thought I wasn't looking, the way he grinned when we were close.

I never felt better cared for, or better understood, than when I was with him. And that was precisely why he could never find out how I felt. Everything fucked up in my life was due to circumstances beyond my control. This was something I had a handle on, and I wasn't going to fuck that up for anything.


	2. Us

It happened. The best thing that could have happened. And the worst thing. It  _ happened_.

There was a little get-together at Vin's flat. Everyone was drinking, having a good time. His best mate, Dylan, spent most of the night chatting me up. I can't say I minded the attention. Of all of Vinnie's mates, he managed to be both the handsome one and the clever one.I wasn't ashamed to flirt right back. The drinking had started early, after all, and despite my feelings for Vin, I wasn't going to ignore the fact I'd always been told the two of us would make a good couple.

But Dylan had work in the morning and was the first to head home. That's when the trickle began. Folks coupled off and excused themselves. Others needed to catch the last buses home. But I had nowhere to be, no one who needed me, and before I knew it, it was 3 in the morning. By then, it was just Vin and me, and we were positively smashed.

"I'm walkin' home, Vin," I slurred as I thundered toward the coatrack near the front door. When I got there, I chuckled. I was still wearing my coat.

"You're drunk, love," Vin shouted from the sofa, his mop of hair growing much more unruly than usual. He'd been having a rough go, and it showed. "You shouldn't be stumblin' about like that at midnight. It's not safe."

"It's 3, Vin," I corrected.

"That's fuckin' worse!" he groaned. "Look, stay. I insist."

"That's kind of you, really," I said, "but I can manage."

In my stupor, I really believed that.

"Look, Erin," he said, his drunken voice growing serious. "If somethin' were to happen to you I'd lose my mind, y'know that?"

It wasn't an act of manipulation. It was the plain and simple truth. I  _did_ know that and... well, now I felt guilty. 

Vin was a doll, but he could also be temperamental. Prone to mood swings, and crushing ups and downs. He knew it was an issue, and he'd brought it up with his GP, and they were still working out what was going on in that head of his. He'd told me his mum had been the same way. Before she left. 

So why selfishly put myself and his sanity at risk for no good reason? That would be daft. Cruel. Especially after Vin had let me in on shit that no one else had ever opened up to me about. It was his honesty that kept me.

"Alright, Vin," I gave in. "I can crash here on the sofa. Maybe a few hours, I'll sober up and get headed out."

"I'm not lettin' you sleep on the fuckin' sofa," he insisted. "I'll kip out here, you take the bed. Here..."

He headed into the short hall to his bedroom, and I followed. There, he grabbed a pillow and attempted to rip the top sheet from his unkempt bed. In his state, it was a struggle. I hopped in right next to him to help, and together, it wasn't so much of a chore. 

When the bed finally freed the sheet, I piled the loose end in his hands. We were too drunk. It was nothing at all, but it was so funny, and we couldn't stop laughing. 

God, his smile. I'd always loved seeing it. He could be such a warm person, in the best of times, and when he glowed with joy like this, it was infectious. It made you feel like you mattered. And when you were responsible for that smile? It could make you weak in the knees.

And the way his eyes twinkled and changed. On a clear day against the blue of the sky, they shone like jade, but most of the time, under the moody northern clouds, they looked a soft cedar, veined with green. Here and now, in the crap lighting of his cheap flat, they were the color of honey. They'd truly never looked more beautiful.

In the end, it was his eyes that did me in. I reached up to the sides of his face and took his head down and pulled his lips to mine. There was a moment's hesitation, but then he gave in, kissing me back with everything he had. 

I couldn't believe I was kissing the man I loved. I literally couldn't think. I just wanted him so badly and this cloud of bliss behind my eyes pushed away every doubt and lingering thought in my mind. I knew he wanted me, too.

I pulled him back with me onto the bed. I'd never felt more wanted, and I needed him even more. He was so hard, and I begged him to take me.

Then he nodded and rose, turning to the bedside table. He opened it, pulling a condom in its wrapper out of a nearly full box. He examined it, then cursed and tossed it back. He pulled out another before shaking his head.

"They're... they're all past the expiry date," he mumbled. "You don't happen to have one on you?"

"I'm on the pill," I told him. "It's fine."

"You sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure," I answered confidently. 

Never mind the three days this month I'd lost my pack of pills before they miraculously showed back up in the bottom of my handbag. I caught right up on them the minute I found them. I'd never had a problem before. This wouldn't be any different.

That was enough for him. Soon he was right back where we'd left things off, his breath tasting of sweet ale, his touch to my hips and thighs and chest even sweeter. Then we were undressed, and though he had me only briefly, he had me moaning and writhing, and left me panting and wishing I could have him forever.

I'll never forget the way he smiled when we were finished. I'd never seen him happier. He looked like I felt. And when his eyes drew closed and his gentle breaths told me he'd fallen asleep, the look hadn't left his face. I fell asleep feeling this was the best thing I'd ever done.

* * *

I woke knowing it was the worst thing I'd ever done. I had to get out. I had to hide. I wasn't ready to break Vinnie's heart. Maybe I could change my name, find a new home somewhere in Eastern Europe and just disappear forever?

As soon as I slinked out of his flat I regretted it. That was a mistake, wasn't it?I could be with the man I loved. We could have something real. 

But no. That was unlikely. It'd work for a few days, a week if I was lucky, and then it'd end horribly. I was just days away from ruining the best thing in my life. I'd known this would happen all along, and I went ahead and did it anyway.

I expected Vinnie to call as soon as he woke up. Except he didn't. Not that day, or even the day after. 

And then I started to fret. Maybe it had meant more to me than it had to him. I'd misread the entire situation. God, could I really have been so stupid?

In the end, I couldn't handle it any longer. I mustered the courage to call him. And of the thousands of things I was expecting, the last was that he'd been so drunk he didn't remember a thing had happened at all. 

I decided to play it cool. I asked him if his moods were alright. Hit and miss, he said. Then some small talk, and I lied and said my bus had showed and I had to go. 

I felt like crying, and I didn't know if I was relieved or devastated. He didn't know. Our lives could continue just as they were. I hadn't ruined everything. 

So why did so much of me still yearn for what might have been if he had remembered?

No, Erin. I wasn't going down that road. This was the best case scenario. I'd gotten what I wanted, with no consequences. That was something worth celebrating. It had to be. It'd be my little secret. No one would ever have to know.


	3. Tyler

I was late. And not by just a couple of days, where you could ignore it and hope your periods came and that you'd been worrying yourself over nothing. It had been over two weeks when that stupid little plus sign on the test confirmed it. Fuck.

I'd planned to get rid of it. That's the kind of thing you did when this happened, right? I wasn't responsible enough to be in charge of another life. I could barely take care of myself. And life was such a shit thing anyway. Why bring a person into a world that might treat them like it'd treated me?

I was sure. But even so, I found solace in the fact I had some time to come to that final decision. It wouldn't be a rush job. It'd be measured, and thought out, and when I made the choice, I'd know in my heart it'd be the right one. Oh God, I hoped I'd know that. 

I'd managed to avoid everyone for a month. It's not like I was showing or anything, but I had this creeping suspicion people would know just by the sight of me. I'd give it away somehow. I didn't feel like explaining myself, like being judged, like being known. But in a small town like this, you have to work to hide. 

So I shouldn't have been too surprised when I ran into Vin at the supermarket. He was in bad shape. I hated that it helped—that his struggle made me feel more normal, and less alone.

He told me he'd finally gotten a diagnosis—it was bipolar disorder—and though his new medication helped in a number of crucial ways, it disagreed with him in others. It was likely they'd adjust his dosage, or even the meds entirely, at his next visit in a month, he told me. But knowing was only a good thing, he said. It wouldn't fix everything, but it'd help. 

That didn't explain his current state. What did was that he'd been worried about me. He hadn't been sleeping well. I apologised for ignoring his texts, and when he forgave me immediately—he'd been in my shoes, he said—I couldn't keep it in. 

I started sobbing, right there in the produce section, and he pulled me aside and gave me a hug and stayed with me until I could calm down enough to ask him to check out my groceries for me. He did so, gladly, and I didn't have the words to express what gratitude I felt right there and then. After everything we was dealing with, somehow I was the one who needed help.

He walked me all the way home, and once we'd put my things away, he offered to take me to The Crow's Nest for a drink. That got the waterworks going again. How could I explain this away?

"I... I've got something to say," I announced, "and you must promise to tell no one. Not until I'm ready."

"I promise," he swore. "Not even a question."

I watched him so closely when I told him I was pregnant, for any glimmer of recognition, for any suspicion of the truth. There was none. Instead, there was just concern, and care. And that he understood why I'd gone missing nearly broke my heart all over again.

"I'm probably not keeping it," I told him. "It's... I'm just not ready."

"Mhmm," he nodded, sympathetically. And then, after a thought, he added, "Probably?"

"I'm... I'm just not sure," I said. "I mean, could you imagine me as a mother?"

He looked me up and down, and half-smiled.

"Yeah," he said gently. "I could. You'd be a great mum."

I had no idea how to respond to that. I didn't see it, but Vin knew me better than anyone. I wondered what he meant. I was relieved when he spoke again.

"Do you mind if I ask...?" he began.

"Who's the dad?" I finished the question for him. He nodded. "He's already out of the picture."

I hated how easily the lie flowed off the tongue. But it was best. For me. For Vin. For the child I suddenly knew I was keeping. 

Vin just nodded at that, no judgement, just pure understanding and support and I found myself in tears for the third time that day. And again, he pulled me in close to him, this time not quite understanding why the more he showed me he cared about me, the harder this got.

"You sure you don't want to go down to Kath's, just for a bit of normalcy?" he asked. "We can both order lemonades, no one will suspect a thing."

"I'm sure, Vin," I said. "But maybe another time, yeah?"

"Of course, love," he said. "And look. I know I'm not the most reliable person on the planet, but if you need anythin', and I mean anythin' at all, you know you can always rely on me and the lads, right?"

"Yeah, I know," I said, feeling rather warm. The reminder was needed. I'd only been hurting myself by cutting myself off.

"There's that smile," Vin said with a new grin, and that got me smiling harder, even through the tears. 

And then, the way he did when he about to set up a very corny joke, "Hey! Uh—we're having a benefit later to support people who struggle to orgasm..."

He started smiling early, building up the anticipation ahead of the punchline.

"...Let me know if you can't cum."

That was a bad one, but I couldn't hold back the huge, deep laughs that originated in my slightly bloated belly. He loved getting that reaction out of me.

"Thanks, Vin," I said. "For everything."

And the way he walked off, standing tall with his hands deep in the pockets of his oversized parka, let me know he'd felt he did good. He had. His demeanor had completely changed since the supermarket. Things were looking up. I had to wonder what the future would bring.

* * *

Tyler was born a very healthy seven pounds, 10 ounces on a very mild and beautiful day. I only had to see him once, that cherry red, shrieking face, to know I'd never loved anyone more in my life. And I never would. He was the best mistake. And he had to be protected.

I decided to do this alone. Vinnie would have been here in a heartbeat, of course, but I didn't want to set any precedents. I couldn't put that on him. Tyler was my burden to bear, and I was happy to carry that weight on my own. 

Fully capable, too. I'd never felt so driven to do something with my life. To change everything. I was going to be the best mam Hawley had ever seen.

I just couldn't stop thinking about what I promised myself all those years ago. That he'd get the opposite of what I got. That meant I was going to have to make something of myself. Commit. I'd never thought I could, but now, not doing that seemed unthinkable. I'd go to school. Get a degree that could get me a job to give him a future.

He'd never be hit. Ever. When he was dealing with shit, he'd be heard out. He wouldn't get babysat by the telly, and he'd always get an explanation when the world was a confusing, dark pile of shit.

I'd just gotten home from hospital, cradling Tyler close, promising him everything, when there was a knock at the door. It was Vin, ready to celebrate after hearing the news. And not just him, but Dylan, and his mates Ash and Tommo and Cardi, too. 

I didn't know them all that well, and I didn't quite trust them with the baby, but they'd brought gifts—formula and tiny new clothes and stuffed animals without any button noses and eyes to choke on—and after dealing with the birth all on my own, the help was welcome. They were the only gifts Tyler had gotten after being born.

Vin offered to help tidy up, and Dylan was willing to hold Tyler and give me a break—still putting the charm on, despite me being a new mam—and the others seemed just as willing to help. Vinnie's own gang of Merry Men.

And then I realized this gear, all very helpful and needed, had absolutely been nicked. Maybe straight from the nursery store, or out of the back of a van. Probably from someone morally reprehensible, like that helped. Regardless, Tyler was a day old, and he was already aiding and abetting. 

That reminded me of the most important rule I'd set for Tyler. His parents would be in his life. Not locked up in cells.

God, that should have been easily done. But with Vinnie O'Neil in the picture, nothing could be that easy, could it? 

I couldn't bear to let Tyler get too close to him and then have him ripped away. That had fucked me up beyond repair as a kid. I still wasn't over it. Maybe that's one reason I was so drawn to him. Some fucked up cycle, trying to repeat itself.

As much as it destroyed me to admit it, our perfect future was not in this place. And Vin wasn't part of it. As much as I loved him, as much as I'd needed him through the years, I had going to do whatever I could to get out of this life. Out of this town. For Tyler. For us.


End file.
